Shooter's Eye
by Finmonster
Summary: As gunslinger Roland Deschain pursues the man in black across the desert, he comes across a boy waiting for him at an abandoned way station. But this is not the boy that other versions of this tale would have, and the consequences of this change may be more far reaching than they first appear. Crossover between the Dark Tower and New Century series.
1. The Way Station

**Shooter's Eye**

 **Chapter 1: The Way Station**

The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.

The desert was a flat hardpan that baked beneath the heat of the sun as it began to dip towards the horizon. The gunslinger trailed after the sun, walking down what may have once been a road but was now little more than the faded memory of one. As the gunslinger followed after the man in black, it seemed to be sheer willpower that kept him moving forward, as by this point he stumbled more than he walked.

The gunslinger was a tall man, his dark skin backing under the glare of the sun. His black hair was cut close to his scalp, the strands standing roughly as tall as the stubble that graced the lower half of his face. He wore a homespun shirt that had once been dyed, but the color had faded to a sort of non-white during his travels. Along with the shirt, the gunslinger sported a pair of faded denim jeans, the cuffs of which covered the tops of his scuffed black boots. A red bandana hung loosely around his neck while a black duster clung to his frame, the end of which was fraying and caked in dirt. A pair of leather ammo belts crisscrossed around his waist, holding up the holsters that sat at his hips. In the holsters were a pair of large six-shooters made from heavy iron with worn, sandalwood grips. A black strap crossed over his chest, holding up a black bag that sat near the small of his back. He looked out at the world with a pair of steely blue eyes and though he appeared on the cusp of middle age, there was something about the gunslinger's weathered face that made him seem unfathomingly older.

The gunslinger stumbled his way down the ghost of the road, his water canteen banging hollowly against his hip while his throat felt as dry as the surrounding desert. As he went, his eyes squinted against the glaring sun, trying to focus on anything in the endless wasteland stretching out before him. To his surprise, they found something.

Perhaps a mile or so down the forgotten road from where the gunslinger was sat a structure. At first, all the gunslinger could tell was that it was a short, squat building, wider than it was tall. As he drew closer, however, the gunslinger realized that the structure could only be a way station, a rest stop for travelers back when carriages use to make their way across the desert.

Back before the world had moved on.

As the gunslinger drew closer to the way station, he was able to make out the finer details of the structure. Most of it had been bleached white by the desert sun, though he could make out a few flecks of red paint that still clung to places. The most noticeable feature of the way station was the canopy that reached out from the front part of the structure supported by a pair of metal columns, creating a shaded area that the carriages would have stopped under while visiting the station. Directly between the columns was a pair of pumps with long rubber hose attachments. As the gunslinger continued down the road, he was able to see that at the front of the canopy was the faded remains of a triangle symbol, along with letters that spelled out the word "Citgo."

The gunslinger did not know what this meant.

As the gunslinger came within a quarter mile of the way station, he saw something that gave him pause. Just outside the main structure, beneath the shade of the canopy was the remains of a campfire, one that he judged had been lit the night before. Standing in the road, the gunslinger swept his steely eyes over the way station, looking for any other signs of life. He found it when he spotted some movement near the entrance to the building. Looking in the that direction, the gunslinger's heart sped up as he spotted a figure crouched in the doorway.

The man in black. He had finally caught up to him.

Attempting to run, but doing little more than stumble drunkenly towards the way station, the gunslinger reached down and drew one of his revolvers with practiced ease, leveling it at the figure still crouched in the doorway.

"I've got you!" the gunslinger declared, his parched throat causing his deep voice to come out scratched, "I've got you dead to rights!"

As the gunslinger stumbled to a stop beneath the shade of the way station's canopy, his eyes adjusted to the change in light and the gunslinger realized something.

The person in front of him was not, in fact, the man in black.

It was a boy.

He was an older boy, old enough to be someone's apprentice, with tanned skin, brown hair and a skinny frame. He wore an olive green, button down shirt that looked like it has seen better days, with a similarly tattered pair of brown slacks and scuffed brown shoes. He looked at the gunslinger with wide, fear-filled brown eyes.

"You're not Walter," the gunslinger mumbled before he promptly fell to the ground and passed out.

Oblivion held the gunslinger fast for a time, and he lost all sense of thought and purpose. Eventually, the gunslinger's mind recollected itself and his eyes slowly opened. The first thing the gunslinger noticed was that his throat was no longer dry, feeling instead as though he had recently drank, a sensation that the gunslinger had all but forgotten. The next thing the gunslinger noticed was that night had fallen, though the glittering stars were hidden by the way station's canopy. The final thing the gunslinger noticed was the fire that was burning a few feet away. The warmth of the fire battled the now cool desert air and on the other side of the dancing flames the gunslinger could see the boy watching cautiously.

"I'm not dead," the gunslinger observed.

"You seemed thirsty," the boy spoke up, his voice light and painted with an accent the gunslinger recognized from somewhere in his past, "I gave you some water while you were out."

"I was thirsty," the gunslinger confirmed with a nod, "Thank you."

The boy nodded in reply.

"What is your name, boy?" the gunslinger questioned.

"Miguel," the boy answered.

"We are well met, Miguel," the gunslinger stated as he pulled himself up into a seated position, "I am Roland. Do you dwell here?"

"I uh, I suppose I do," Miguel answered uncertainty, "For now, at least."

"I do not understand you," Roland stated as his brow furrowed.

"I'm not from here," Miguel clarified.

"How did you come to dwell here?" Roland questioned.

"It is….It is a long story," Miguel said uncertainty.

"I can assure you that mine is longer still," Roland replied, before motioning for Miguel to go on, "Let us palather."

"What?" Miguel questioned in confusion.

"Talk," Roland clarified.

"Well, I've been living with my father in Memphis," Miguel began before pausing as he noticed Roland's brow furrowing, "Memphis, Tennessee? You must have heard of it, it can't be to far from here."

"I am not familiar with this place," Roland admitted.

"How can you not be, I can't have come that far," Miguel mused more to himself than to Roland, "We're still in the RSA, aren't we?"

"I have never heard of any RSA," Roland answered.

"The RSA?" Miguel repeated, looking at Roland in complete bafflement, "The Reunified States of America?"

Roland's blank, uncomprehending face spoke volumes.

"Perhaps if you tell me more of your story, Miguel," Roland suggested, "Maybe then, things will become clearer."

Miguel nodded in agreement, a troubled expression on his face.

"I was exploring the wreck of an old riverboat near town with some friends," Miguel explained, "People said it used to be a hideout for bandits who had left their treasure there or that it was haunted. We didn't find any treasure or ghosts though."

"What did you find?" Roland prompted.

"First, there was just a feeling," Miguel explained as he wrapped his arms around himself despite the heat coming off of the fire, "A feeling that something was….wrong. That we shouldn't have been there. My friends wanted to leave right then, but something made me want to stay."

"What happened next?" Roland urged.

"We explored the riverboat for awhile until we started hearing this sound," Miguel explained, "It was this high-pitched whining noise, it's hard to explain. Like a sheet of metal crying out in pain."

Remembering the noise caused the hairs on the back of Miguel's neck to stand on end.

"It was at that point that my friends decided they had had enough, but I didn't leave with them," Miguel continued, "I couldn't. I don't know what it was but I felt something pulling me towards that noise, despite how horrible it was. Sometimes, I swear I could hear a voice talking to me, calling my name."

Roland's stony demeanor continued to betray nothing but something in the back of Miguel's mind told him that the gunslinger knew more than he was letting on.

"Eventually, I came to the largest room at the center of the ship's top deck," Miguel went on, "The noise was so loud that I was worried I was going to lose my mind. But then, I saw it."

"What was it?" Roland asked.

"It's hard to describe," Miguel said, his brow furrowed as he tired to suss out how to put what he was thinking into words, "It was as if someone had torn a hole in the air itself. Like the air was a curtain and someone had ripped a piece of it open. Does that make any sense?"

"It does," Roland replied with a nod, "I have seen something like it before."

"You….You have?" Miguel questioned in shock.

"I am sure that the phenomenon has many names but I know it as a thinny," Roland elaborated.

"A thinny?" Miguel parroted, the word tasting strange on his tongue.

"You say true," Roland confirmed with a nod, "A thinny is a place where the fabric of reality has worn thin, much like the curtain of which you previously spoke. Thin enough that it has torn, opening a doorway to….somewhere else."

"Somewhere else?" Miguel asked, still not fully comprehending.

"Another world, if you would," Roland elaborated, before he began to spin two of his fingers in a "go on" gesture, "Perhaps I can explain better once you've finished your tale."

"There's not much left to it," Miguel stated, "I remember walking up to the….the thinny and looking through it."

"What could you see?" Roland inquired.

"It was like I was looking out from on top of a high cliff," Miguel explained, "I could see for miles across a vast desert. Below me, water fell over a high cliff and if I leaned close enough I could feel the water spray and hear the roar of the falls over the sound of the thinny. It was beautiful."

"Then what?" Roland asked.

"Then somebody pushed me," Miguel answered.

"Pushed you?" Roland inquired, his eyebrows raising in surprise, "There was someone else there with you?"

"There must have been," Miguel confirmed with a shrug, "I must have been distracted by the thinny, which gave whoever it was the chance to sneak up behind me and push me."

"You didn't see who it was?" Roland asked, before continuing as Miguel shook his head, "Could it have been one of your friends?"

"No, whoever it was was stronger than that," Miguel answered with another shake of his head, "I think it was a man."

A pensive expression passed over Roland's features before he signaled for Miguel to continue.

"It's hard to remember everything after that," Miguel explained, "I remember falling down the waterfall, the mountain speeding past me. I was sure I was going to die. But the next thing I remember is being in the water and someone grabbing me before dragging me out. Then, I remember someone carrying me before I fully woke up here."

"Were you alone?" Roland inquired, though he believed he already knew the answer.

Miguel was silent for a moment, and Roland could see a shiver run down the boy's spine.

"No," Miguel finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Who was there?" Roland pressed.

"A man," Miguel said, before pausing as he considered his response, "At least, I think he was. When I woke up, it was night time and he was sitting where you are now, with a fire between us."

"What did he look like?" Roland asked.

"I couldn't see much of him," Miguel explained, "He was wearing a black cloak with a hood and it was dark. I could tell that he was also wearing black robes, like those of a priest, but…."

"But what?" Roland pressed.

"He didn't seem like a priest," Miguel answered with a shrug, "He didn't seem much like a man either. There was something….wrong about him. I don't know how else to describe it."

"That's alright, Miguel," Roland assured him, a grim look on his face, "I know exactly what you mean."

"You do?" Miguel questioned in surprise.

"I believe I know of the man of whom you speak," Roland explained, "I do not believe he is entirely human either."

"You know him?" Miguel asked in surprise.

"His name is Walter O'Dim," Roland explained, "He is a magician and my enemy."

"A magician?" Miguel asked in surprise, "Are you saying he can do magic? Real magic?"

"Indeed," Roland confirmed with a nod, "That is why I'm seeking him."

"To kill him?" Miguel questioned.

"Nay, though he deserves death a thousand times over for his crimes," Roland answered, "I seek him for what he knows, for as a magician, Walter's knowledge is vast and deep."

"So you need to ask him a question?" Miguel questioned, earning a nod from Roland in reply, "About what?"

"My quest," Roland answered, "Walter knows what I need to do to get to the Dark Tower."

"What's the Dark Tower?" Miguel asked, his brow furrowing.

Roland paused as he looked out at the dark, desert night that surrounded them.

"I'm not sure," Roland admitted, "But I have sworn a solemn oath to reach the Tower and climb to its top."

Miguel said nothing to this, staying silent as Roland turned his cold blue shooter's eyes back to him.

"But I cry your pardon, Miguel," Roland said, "I have interrupted your tale. What happened between you and Walter?"

"He told me that he had saved my life," Miguel explained, "That he had pulled me out of a muddy desert river like a fish. He told me that I owed him."

"He wanted something from you," Roland surmised.

"He said I needed to wait here, until someone else came along," Miguel stated, "He said I would know what to do then. That was three days ago."

"And you've been surviving here ever since?" Roland questioned.

"It hasn't been hard," Miguel admitted with a shrug, "There's some kind of strange water pump in the back and a lot of canned food on the shelves inside the building. What is this place, anyway?"

"A way station," Roland explained, "It was a place for travelers to stop on carriage rides through the desert. But that was a long time ago. Before the world moved on."

A silence fell between the two, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

"Do you think he….Walter left me here for you to find?" Miguel questioned after a moment.

"There's not a doubt in my mind that he did," Roland answered.

"But why?" Miguel asked.

Another moment of silence.

"I have my suspicions," Roland answered.

"So, what do we do now?" Miguel inquired.

"That depends," Rolan replied, "Where did Walter go after he departed?"

"I think he went that way," Miguel answered as he pointed in the opposite direction that Roland had come from.

"He's heading towards the mountains, as I suspected," Roland mused, "In that case it seems _ka_ has aligned our paths."

"What do you mean?" Miguel asked.

"From what you told me of your tale, it sounds as though the thinny you came through is located somewhere in those mountains," Roland explained, "I must go that way to track down Walter. It would be a small thing for me to bring you back to home, for this place is not one that you would wish to dwell in."

"Why not?" Miguel inquired, "Am I really in another world?"

"Yes," Roland answered simply, "You are in All-World, specifically in the Mohaine Desert in a place known as Mid-World."

"Are you from here?" Miguel questioned.

"No, I hail In-World, from Gilead that was," Roland explained.

"Gilead that was?" Miguel parroted in confusion.

"The last bastion of civilization," Roland elaborated, "From before the world moved on."

"You keep saying that," Miguel pointed out, "What do you mean that the world moved on?"

"My world is old, and it has started to come apart at the seems," Roland explained, "People live in squalor and despair. Mutations among beast and men are rampant. And the very machines of time and space are breaking down."

"Time and space are breaking down?" Miguel asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Things are no longer in a fixed place, and time does not flow at the steady pace it once did," Roland explained, "Everything is prone to fluctuation."

"That….That doesn't sound possible," Miguel commented, a look of shock on his face.

"And yet, it is so," Roland replied with a shrug, "Let me ask you this, Miguel. During your time at this way station, did you notice the days passing by slower than they normally did?"

Miguel was about to answer that of course they hadn't but then he remembered something. The second day he had spent in the way station, the sun did seem to hang in the sky for an abnormally long time, only to suddenly set in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

"I see that you have," Roland observed, "As such, I'm sure you wish to return to your own world rather than linger here."

"I don't understand anything that's happening," Miguel said as he drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, "Especially why you're helping me."

"Because it's what is required of me," Roland explained.

"Because….because you're a knight, right?" Miguel questioned, "That's why you're on a quest. I've heard all sorts of stories about knights going on quests."

"I am a knight, of a sort," Roland answered with an amused smile, "But that does not encompass all that I am."

"What are you then?" Miguel asked.

"A gunslinger," Roland replied solemnly, and the word seemed to strike a chord in Miguel's very soul, "Now, I suggest you get some rest, Miguel. Our trek through the desert will not be an easy one and you will need all of your strength for it."

Miguel nodded and slid onto his side, using his arm as a pillow as he stared into the crackling fire.

"Roland?" Miguel said after a moment of silence.

"Aye?" Roland replied.

"Will we run into any other gunslingers on our way to the mountains?" Miguel inquired.

"No," Roland answered before pausing for long enough that Miguel momentarily thought that was all the gunslinger was going to say, "There are no more gunslingers."

"No more?" Miguel asked, a strange sense of melancholy falling over him at the news.

"No more," Roland parroted, his blue gaze focused on the slowly dying fire, "I am Roland Deschain, son of Steven, the last of the line of Eld, the last son of Gilhead, and the last gunslinger."

A/N: So, as you all can see, a new story has popped into my head. I'm sure many of you will be unfamiliar with the other work that I'm crossing over with the Dark Tower here. If you'd like to learn more about it, I suggest checking out the New Century series of novels and audio dramas. It's great stuff! As always, feedback and critiques are always feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!


	2. The Thing in the Basement

**Chapter 2: The Thing in the Basement**

Morning found the gunslinger standing out in the back of the way station, looking at the strange machine that had been set up there. Miguel had told Roland that it was a water pump, but to the gunslinger, it resembled the oil derricks he recalled seeing from his long ago youth. Specifically, it resembled a miniature version of one of those machines, attached to a large metal box. Leaning down, Roland pushed the button on the box that Miguel had told him about and the machine sprung to life, the oil derrick-like pump moving back and forth. A second later, water began spewing out of spout next to the pump, prompting Roland to quickly grab his canteen from his belt and hold it under the falling water, feeling the cool excess water flow over his hand as he collected it.

After Roland had filled both his canteen and the one that Miguel had scavenged for himself from the way station, he pressed the button on the machine for a second time, cutting off the water flow and causing the pumps to cease their movements. As the pump powered down, Roland made his way back into the way station, capping the canteens as he went.

The inside of the way station was a sparse affair consisting mostly of a single room. The walls were constructed from dull white concrete while the floor was made out of a strange material that Roland did not recognize, decorated with a faded red and white checkered pattern. Most of the room was occupied by shelves made of thin metal, which lined two of the walls and formed three aisles near the center of the room. One of the other walls was occupied by what Roland believed had once been a number of ice boxes, though they had ceased functioning some time ago. The last wall was occupied by what Roland recognized as the shopkeep's counter.

"Miguel," Roland called as he entered the building, "Have you finished gathering our provisions?"

"There's something in the basement," Miguel whispered.

His brow furrowing, Roland looked towards where he had heard Miguel's voice. Roland found the boy in a back corner of the way station, behind the shopkeep's counter, looking down at the floor with a half dozen cans of food stacked next to him. Walking over to the boy, Roland could see that he was looking at a metal trapdoor that had been set into the floor.

"What is it, Miguel?" Roland questioned as he stood next to the boy.

"I-I was looking for more food for our journey," Miguel explained hesitantly, "It didn't seem like there was enough up here, so I figured I would check the basement for more. But, when I opened the door to go down there, I heard something….moving."

"Stand back," Roland instructed as he stepped up to the trapdoor, unholstering one of his guns as he did. Miguel did as he was bid, nervously looking around Roland as the gunslinger reached down and grabbed the trapdoor's handle. Taking a moment to steady himself, Roland aimed his gun at the trapdoor and took a single, calming breath. Then, in a single motion, Roland stood up while yanking the trapdoor open, extending his other arm to aim his gun at the now open passageway.

Beyond the trapdoor was a short staircase made of metal that led down to a concrete floor. A small part of the basement was now illuminated thanks to the open trapdoor, but beyond that there was only darkness.

Everything was quiet for a moment as Roland aimed his gun down the stairway, waiting for something to reveal itself. As the moment passed and nothing happened, Roland slowly lowered his arm. He was about to turn towards Miguel and say something when suddenly the sound of something metal being knocked over rang out from the basement. Snapping his arm back up, Roland returned his attention to the dark confines of the basement.

"Who's ever there, show yourself!" Roland ordered.

Silence followed, and for another moment, nothing stirred in the basement.

"I am Roland Deschain of the line of Eld!" Roland shouted, his voice echoing off the basement's concrete walls, "I demand that you show yourself, whatever you may be!"

Another quiet moment followed and in it, Roland prepared to descend into the basement. Before he could though, something emerged from the darkness. At first, all Roland could make out was a shape moving in the gloom, but as it drew closer, the gunslinger was able to distinguish the thing's features.

The creature that emerged from the darkness of the basement was a quadruped creature that resembled a mix between a small dog and a racoon. It had a thick coat of grey fur with black stripes all along its body and it looked up at them with gold-ringed eyes. The creature had a long, fluffy tail, but it appeared shorter than it truly was as it squiggled in on itself like a pig's. As Roland got a better look at the creature, he realized that it was dangerously thin, with its ribs showing through its fur. He also noted the places where the creature's fur had been torn away by scratch marks that looked as though they had only started to heal.

Roland and the creature regarded one another for a single, silent moment before the gunslinger lowered his weapon.

"What is it?" Miguel questioned as he carefully stepped around Roland to get a better look at the creature.

"A billy-bumbler," Roland replied, "They were once quite common in Gilead, but it has been some time since I last saw one."

"Is it dangerous?" Miguel asked as he stepped in front of Roland and looked down at the billy-bumbler.

"No more than any other animal of its size," Roland answered as he holstered his gun.

"He looks hungry," Miguel observed.

"Starving," Roland concurred.

After taking a few more moments to look at the billy-bumbler, which continued to stand at the bottom of the stairs, staring back at him, Miguel reached down and grabbed one of the cans of food that he had stacked on the floor. Looking down at it, Miguel saw that the can had a small metal tab on the top, which he grabbed hold of before using it to peel the lid off the can. Taking a quick sniff of the contents, Miguel decided that the fruit within was still good for consumption and began carefully making his way down the basement steps. Seeing Miguel approach, the billy-bumbler quickly scampered away into the darkness.

"No, wait!" Miguel called, and he noticed that the billy-bumbler had stopped a short distance away, though the boy could only make out the creature's gold-rimmed eyes in the darkness, watching him wearily, "I just wanted to give you this."

Carefully, Miguel placed the can of food on the floor before backing away. For a moment, the billy-bumbler continued to watch him, then, cautiously, it began to approach the open can of food. Its body tense, as if it were ready to flee at the slightest sign of movement from Miguel, the billy-bumbler stepped back into the light, its eyes quickly shifting between the boy and the food as it went. Stopping a short distance from the can, the billy-bumbler sniffed at the fruit before glancing at Miguel.

"Go on," Miguel urged, a hopeful smile pulling at the edges of his mouth, "You can have it. It's alright."

Taking one last glance between Miguel and the food, the billy-bumbler leaned towards the can. As it did, the billy-bumbler's neck extended far past the point Miguel would have assumed it could reach, allowing the creature to begin eating from the can while maintaining a safe distance from Miguel.

"That's good, isn't it?" Miguel questioned as he leaned forward eagerly, "You like that, boy?"

At the words, the billy-bumbler paused in its meal and raised its head to look at Miguel, fruit juice dripping from its muzzle.

"Oy," the billy-bumbler said, it's voice light and raspy.

Leaning away from the billy-bumbler, Miguel blinked in surprise.

"Did you…." Miguel sputtered, "Did you just talk?"

"Alk," the billy-bumbler replied, "Oy Alk."

Whirling around, Miguel looked up at Roland with wide eyes.

"Can billy-bumblers talk!?" Miguel all but demanded.

"They've been known to pick up words here and there," Roland explained with a shrug, "I'm not sure you could count that as talking though."

"It's more than I was expecting," Miguel replied with an amused grin as he turned to look back at the billy-bumbler, who was now looking at him expectantly. Glancing down, Miguel saw that the billy-bumbler had consumed all the food in the can.

"Was that good?" Miguel asked with an amused smile, "Do you want some more?"

"Careful," Roland admonished gently, "If you keep feeding it like that, it will never leave you alone."

"Why would I want it to leave me alone?" Miguel questioned as he grabbed another one of fruit, opened it and offered it to the billy-bumbler. A ghost of a smile pulled at Roland's lips as he watched the two, before he descended the stairs as well. His heavy boots thudding against the metal steps as he descended, Roland drew the attention of the billy-bumbler, which scrambled to the side as he approached.

"Hey!" Miguel complained, shooting Roland a glare as the gunslinger passed him.

"I cry your pardon, Miguel," Roland apologized as he began looking around the confines of the basement, "But don't forget, we still need to find more provisions for our journey."

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the basement, Roland saw that more metal shelves had been set up against the walls of the room. Happily, unlike the shelves upstairs, these ones contained a large number of unopened cans of food. Unslinging his pack from his shoulders, Roland began to make his way through the shelves, carefully examining the provisions and putting those he deemed worthy of taking into his bag.

"So, you can talk," Miguel said after he had coaxed the billy-bumbler over with another can of food, "Do you have a name?"

At the question, the billy-bumbler stopped eating and focused his gold-rimmed eyes on Miguel.

"Come on, boy," Miguel urged, "What's your name?"

"Oy!" the billy-bumbler replied, "Oy! Oy!"

"Oy, huh?" Miguel questioned with an amused smile, "Well, I suppose I've heard worse names."

"Oy, Oy, Oy," the billy-bumbler stated, clearly pleased with the sound of it.

"Okay, Oy," Miguel chuckled, "I'm Miguel."

"Gel," Oy repeated, "Oy, Gel."

"Good job, Oy!" Miguel congratulated with a beaming smile, "That's right, I'm Miguel."

"Gel, Gel," Oy barked excitedly.

"Okay, now let's try this one," Miguel said before he pointed at Roland as the gunslinger continued to collect cans of food, prompting Oy to look where he indicated, "That's Roland."

"Olan," Oy repeated, looking back at Miguel expectantly, "Olan, Olan!"

"That's right, Oy!" Miguel confirmed, causing Oy to begin bouncing excitedly, "Great job."

"Oy! Gel! Olan!" Oy stated as he continued to bounce up and down like an excited dog, "Olan! Oy! Gel!"

"Miguel," Roland's firm voice cut through the revelry, prompting both the boy and the billy-bumbler to look at the gunslinger, "I think I've got enough for our journey. We should get going."

"Going?" Miguel repeated, his face falling as he did, "Right now?"

"Walter has enough of a lead on us as it is," Roland explained, "We need to get moving if we plan on catching him and getting you home."

"...Okay," Miguel replied with a sigh, looking sadly at Oy as he stood up, "Are you sure we don't need anything else?"

"I'm sure," Roland confirmed with a nod, "I believe we've stripped this place bare getting provisions for the three of us."

"Alright, I guess-" Miguel began to say, before cutting himself off as he realized what Roland has said, "Wait, three of us?"

"Of course," Roland replied, his brow furrowing in confusion, "You, I, and the billy-bumbler."

"I thought you wouldn't want to take him with us," Miguel explained.

"Why would you believe that?" Roland inquired.

"You said that the way we're going will be hard," Miguel elaborated, "I thought you might think the journey would be too hard for him."

"It may very well be," Roland replied soberly, "But while there is a chance he may die on the journey, if we leave him here, with no access to food and water, his death will be a certainty."

"You hear that, Oy?" Miguel said with a grin as he turned back to the billy-bumbler, "You're coming with us!"

"Oy!" the billy-bumbler barked happily, "Oy, oy, oy!"

"Now, come on," Roland said as he nodded towards the stairs, "We need to get going."

Nodding in reply, Miguel made his way up the metal stairs back to the way station's ground floor, Oy following at the boy's heels. Roland watched them go with another small smile. Adjusting the pack that was slung over his shoulder, Roland moved to follow Miguel and Oy up the stares, but stopped as a lingering question began to eat at the back of his mind.

Turning back to the basement, Roland scanned it with his blue eyes, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

"The door was closed when we came here," Roland mumbled to himself, "And there are no cracks in the wall large enough for a billy-bumbler to fit through. So how did you get in here, Oy?"

As Roland looked around the basement, a faint feeling of familiarity came over him, and, for a brief moment, he was convinced he had been here before.

"Impossible," Roland argued against the feeling with a shake of his head. In doing so, he caught sight of something in the corner of his eye. Looking in its direction, Roland saw a large gouge in one of the basement's concrete walls. His brow furrowing, Roland stepped towards the gouge, his sense of familiarity only growing stronger. Reaching forward, Roland slowly extended his arm to touch the gouge.

"Death, but not for you, gunslinger," a voice suddenly whispered in Roland's mind, "Never for you."

As the words echoed in his head, Roland pulled his hand back from the gouge, as if he had been burnt. Quickly, Roland glanced around the room again, but found that he was still alone.

"Roland?" Miguel called from upstairs, his voice concerned, "Are you coming?"

"Y-Yes," Roland replied as he gave his head a small shake to clear it, "I'm sorry, Miguel, I was lost in thought."

With that, Roland climbed back out of the basement, trying his best to ignore the still lingering feeling of familiarity as he went.

Sometime later, with their gear all packed and the burning sun shining high above the desert, Roland and Miguel departed the way station, Oy following at the boy's heels.

"You are certain Walter went in this direction?" Roland questioned as they walked.

"Yes," Miguel replied with a nod, "Where do you think he's going?"

"I don't know," Roland admitted, "Part of me wants to believe he's running blindly to try and escape me."

"You think so?" Miguel asked.

"No, not truly," Roland replied with a shake of his head, "Walter's too smart for that. Too crafty. There is a purpose to everything he does."

"Do you think he might be leading you somewhere, then?" Miguel inquired, "Do you think he might be leading you into a trap?"

"It's entirely possible," Roland surmised with a nod, "But it ultimately doesn't matter."

"Why not?" Miguel asked in puzzlement.

"Because I must capture him, one way or the other," Roland explained, "I have no other choice. He has something I need, and I will have it."

There was pause as a weary look crossed Miguel's features. Glancing away from Roland, Miguel looked down at Oy, only to find the billy-bumbler was looking back at him with something like concern as well.

"Do you think you'll be able to keep tracking him?" Miguel asked.

"I have so far," Roland assured him, "I'm sure I'll be able to continue to follow his trail."

"Do you think we'll catch him before he reaches the mountains?" Miguel inquired.

"I do not believe so," Roland answered, "But I also do not believe that we are as far behind as it seems. I suspect that Walter is closer than he appears."

This thought did not reassure Miguel, and a shiver ran down his spine as he thought of the hooded man who had sit across from the fire from him a few nights previous. Looking away from Roland, Miguel spotted an old wooden sign sitting next to the ghost of a road they were following.

"Roland, look!" Miguel said as he pointed at the sign, "There's a town up ahead. Do you think Walter will be there?"

"I do not believe we will find anyone there," Roland replied, "This desert was a harsh place before the world moved on. Now, I imagine we will find a ghost town, one that Walter will have passed through as quickly as we should."

Nodding in understanding, Miguel looked back at the sign as the trio walked past it.

"Twenty wheels to the town of Tull," he read quietly to himself.

As the trio followed the road towards the horizon, they were oblivious to the figure who stepped out of the way station and watched them. He was a tall, lanky man with a gaunt face and pale skin. He had dark brown, practically black eyes and raven hair that was covered by the hood of the pitch black cloak he wore. Rubbing his hands together, the palms of which were without and lines or markings of any kind, the man who was known as, among other things, Walter O'Dim grinned mirthfully.

"That's where you're wrong, gunslinger," he tittered to himself, his voice smooth and accented with a drawl, "That town is far from abandoned, though I don't believe you'll enjoy their hospitality."

Still grinning, Walter stepped back into the shadows of the way station, and disappeared.

A/N: So, I know this isn't the most popular of my stories, but I'm having a lot of fun writing it, so here's another chapter! Also, if you do like this story, definitely track down the New Century series online. It's a great series of audio stories. I'd say also check out the Dark Tower, but I don't think Stephen King needs my promotion quite as much. As always, feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!


	3. Tull

**Chapter 3: Tull**

The desert sun burned high overhead as Roland, Miguel and Oy trudged across the desert. Shading his eyes with his hand, Miguel looked up at the blazing orb in the clear blue sky, before turning his gaze towards the seemingly endless expanse of desert before them, broken only by the mountains looming in the distance. As he looked though, Miguel caught sight of something else through the haze that hung over the desert hardpan.

"Roland, look!" Miguel declared as he pointed towards the shimmering image, "A town!"

"Aye, I see it," Roland replied, sounding unsurprised, "That must be what remains of the town of Tull."

"Do you think they'll have water there?" Miguel asked hopefully before he took a small sip from his canteen.

"Doubtful," Roland answered, and took note of Miguel's disappointed face, "But it will, no doubt, have shade, so it will be a good place for us to stop and take a break."

Nodding in reply, Miguel straightened his shoulders and continued the trek across the desert with a renewed determination.

It took the trio roughly another hour to reach the outskirts of Tull, though to Miguel it felt as if it was both shorter and longer than that. As they drew closer to the town, Miguel began to get the sense that Roland had been wrong about the town being abandoned. The buildings, to Miguel's eye, appeared worn but not abandoned, with faded paints coloring the structures and broken boards in need of replacing here and there. However, despite this, Miguel could see no sign of life on streets, which were little more than hard packed earth flanked by rows of buildings.

"Roland…." Miguel began to say as they entered the town.

"I see it as well, Miguel," Roland commented, his blue eyes scanning their surroundings as they walked down the road, "It would appear that the town is not as abandoned as I thought. But, if that's the case, where are all the townsfolk?"

Together, the trio made their way deeper into Tull, passing by various shops and homes, all of which appeared to be devoid of life. Reaching the center of town, the group found themselves at a crossroads, at the center of which sat two objects. One was a water pump, slightly rusted but not disused. The other object was a tall pole that seemed to be made out of black metal, on top of which was a rectangular box that had three stacked bulbs on each side, colored red, yellow and green.

"What is that?" Miguel questioned as he looked up at the black pole.

"I do not know," Roland admitted as he walked over to the water pump. Grasping the pump with one hand, Roland gave it an experimental pull, causing a small amount of water to trickle out of the spout.

As the two humans examined the things sitting at the center of the crossroads, Oy took a curious sniff of the air. Catching something's scent, Oy took a few more sniffs at the air and turned around to face the saloon that sat at one of the corners of the crossroads. As his gold-rimmed eyes focused on the batwing doors that led into the saloon, Oy took a few more sniffs of the air before he raised his hackles and bared his teeth in a warning growl. The action immediately caught both Roland and Miguel's attentions.

"What's wrong, Oy?" Miguel questioned as he walked over to the billy-bumbler and kneeled next to him, "What is it?"

Roland, meanwhile, was looking at the saloon as well, his sharp eyes scanning what could be seen beyond the batwing doors, his right hand resting on one of his holstered guns. As Roland watched, he caught no sign of movement from within the saloon, though Oy continued to snarl in the building's direction.

"What's wrong with him, Roland?" Miguel asked as he looked up at the gunslinger.

"He cares not for this place," Roland stated, his eyes still focused on the saloon, "And I find that I do not either. I believe we should leave as soon as possible."

"Okay," Miguel agreed with a nod as he stood back up, "Come on, Oy. We have to go."

Oy continued to snarl at the saloon, but began to back away from it before fully turning to follow Roland and Miguel as they left the crossroads.

"What's going on, Roland?" Miguel questioned as they made their way down another road, one that led back to the desert and the mountains beyond, "Did something bad happen here?"

"I fear it may have," Roland replied as he walked briskly down the road, "I worry that Walter may have led us this way as a part of some trap."

As Roland spoke, the trio hustled past a stables. Pausing outside the building, Oy took another sniff of the air before snarling in the direction of the open door. Hearing this, both Roland and Miguel stopped in their tracks and turned to look back at Oy.

"Oy, come on!" Miguel called as he beckoned the billy-bumbler over to him, "Come on, boy! We have to go!"

Oy ignored Miguel's calls and continued snarling at the stables, before he suddenly rushed forward, barking madly as he went.

"Oy, no!" Miguel shouted as he ran after the billy-bumbler.

"Miguel, wait!" Roland cried in alarm before he chased after the two of them.

Following Miguel into the stables, Roland found the boy and the billy-bumbler standing halfway down the row of stalls. Stopping behind Miguel, Roland saw that the boy was frozen with fear, while Oy continued to snarl at something in the stables. Following Miguel's gaze, Roland saw that the corpse of a horse was lying in the last stall of the stables, and that something was crouching over the body, feeding on it.

Studying the creature, Roland found that it appeared largely human, but was different in a number of substantial ways. The creature was dressed in the ruined remains of a man's shirt and pants, the cloth so dirty and worn that it was impossible to tell what its original colors were. The creature itself was also filthy, its skin covered in a layer of dust and grime while its brown hair was matted and dirty. It was crouched over the horse's corpse on all fours, the creature's lithe, taunt form reminding Roland of a cougar.

As Roland watched the creature, it stopped feeding on the horse's corpse and lifted its head, apparently sniffing the air as it did so. Then, catching a whiff of something, the creature slowly turned its head towards the trio, the low rumbling of what could only be a growl emanating from somewhere deep in the creature's chest. As the creature's face came fully into view, Roland saw that it was a mockery of a man's. The mouth was frozen into a rictus grin that showcased all of the creature's teeth which were now stained with the horse's coagulating blood. What caught Roland's attention though were the creature's angry orange eyes that glared back at him.

"Wendigo," Miguel whispered, his voice filled with obvious terror.

Glancing down at Miguel, Roland could see that the body was frozen with terror, unable to tear his gaze away from the creature he had labeled a wendigo. Oy, meanwhile, continued to growl at the creature, refusing to back down as the wendigo turned to fully face them.

It was at that point, the second wendigo that had been lurking in the rafters of the stables leapt down at them.

In many ways, the creature was similar to the first wendigo, only female. Her clothes were equally tattered, the remains leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her blonde hair, now darkened by dirt, trailed behind her like a banner as she flew through the air. Her orange eyes were focused on Roland's throat as she let out a deep-throated roar of challenge, ready to tear the gunslinger limb from limb.

Unfortunately for her, Roland had marked her the moment he stepped into the stables.

His hand moving so quickly that it began a literal blur of motion, Roland drew one of his guns as his eyes snapped up to look at the wendigo. As the creature flew through the air, Roland raised his arm and leveled the gun at the wendigo's chest before pulling the trigger, all in less than a second. The gun let out a thunderous roar as the bullet shot from the chamber, the projectile piercing the wendigo's heart before exiting out her back, carrying enough momentum to completely reverse the creature's trajectory and send it falling away from Roland. The wendigo's corpse fell to the ground next to Miguel with a thud, dead before it had even landed.

Miguel jumped in surprise as the corpse landed next to him, his eyes going wide as he stared at it. A hush fell over the stables as everyone, even the other wendigo, stared at the corpse, watching as a pool of blood formed around it. Slowly, the still living wendigo lifted its head to glare at Roland, snarling at the gunslinger as it began to move towards him. Before the wendigo could take a single step though, Roland drew his other gun and shot it between the eyes.

Miguel flinched as the shot rang out, the booming raport of Roland's gun cause his ears to ring for a few seconds as the wendigo fell over dead. As he looked around, Miguel saw Oy wander over to the female wendigo's corpse and sniff at it curiously before snarling and backing away. Turning towards Roland, Miguel watched as the gunslinger lowered his arms as the echo of his gunfire faded.

"Miguel," Roland said as he holstered his guns, "What were-"

Roland was interrupted by a loud, low-throated barking noise from somewhere in town. It was quickly joined by another, then another, increasing in number until Roland could not tell just how many creatures there were. As he listened, Roland watched as Miguel's face paled at the sound.

"Wendigos," he whispered as he stared back at Roland with wide eyes, "The whole town has turned into wendigos!"

Redrawing one of his guns, Roland quickly took Miguel's hand before practically dragging the boy out of the stables as he began running down the street.

"Come on, Oy!" Miguel shouted over his shoulder, struggling to keep up with Roland's long-legged strides, "We have to go!"

"Oy!" the billy-bumbler called before he went racing after Miguel and Roland, his fleet feet quickly catching up with them.

As the trio ran down the road towards the edge of town, the sound of shattering glass caught Roland's attention. Glancing up, Roland saw that a wendigo had leapt out of the second-story window of a nearby store and was now racing along the balcony that ran outside the window, running on all fours like a wild animal. More sounds of breaking glass followed as other wendigo leapt out of the surrounding buildings and began chasing after the trio until over a dozen were hot on their heels.

Approaching the end of the road, Roland could see the desert stretching out before them towards the mountains in the distance. Before they could reach it however, another group of wendigo came bounding into view, cutting off their retreat. Seeing this, Roland skid to a stop, allowing the wendigo that were pursuing them to fan out, so that the trio was completely encircled by the creatures.

"They're everywhere!" Miguel moaned, whipping his head around to look at all the snarling, barking wendigo as Oy raised his hackles and snarled, "What are we going to do!?"

"Stay close to me," Roland said simply as he drew his other gun.

"W-What?" Miguel asked in shock as he looked up at Roland.

"Stay close to me," Roland repeated, his eyes sweeping over the surrounding wendigo.

Before Miguel could say anything else, one of the wendigo let out a loud bark as it charged at the three of them. Roland barely glanced at the creature before he raised one of his guns and shot the wendigo down. As the creature collapsed to the ground, blood bubbling out of the freshly made hole in its chest, the other wendigo snarled and hissed, looking between their dying comrade and Roland.

Roaring in challenge, the group of wendigo quickly surged towards the trio as one, looking to overwhelm them with their numbers. Unshaken, Roland raised his arms and began firing in every direction, his blue eyes flicking between targets as rapidly as his fingers pulled the triggers. The heavy caliber rounds ripped through the charging wendigo, cutting through their flesh like scissors through paper. As one shot caught a wendigo between the eyes, it burst out the back of the creature's head in a shower of gore before burying itself into the eye of the one directly behind it, killing the unlucky wendigo instantly. Another shot ripped its way through the chest of a wendigo, exploding out its back before the projectile crashed into the knee of a second creature, destroying it and sending the wendigo falling to the ground, roaring in pain.

Miguel observed the gunslinger fight with wide, awed eyes, almost completely forgetting the horde of nightmares that was threatening to tear them limb from limb as he watched Roland ply his trade. He was snapped out of it, however, when Roland suddenly locked his blue shooter's eyes on Miguel.

"Miguel, look out!" Roland roared as he turned towards the boy.

Blinking in surprise, Miguel glanced over his shoulder, only to find, to his horror, a wendigo leaping towards him, its jaws open wide to bite a chunk out of his flesh. Miguel screamed in terror, but found that he could not move out of the way, his legs frozen in place by bone-chilling horror.

In the split second before the wendigo could fall upon Miguel, he was shoved roughly to the side as Roland interposed himself between the two. As the wendigo beared down on him, Roland slammed the butt of one of his guns against the creature's temple while stepping back out of its path, sending the wendigo crashing to the dusty ground. Before the wendigo could recover its wits, Roland stepped over to it and kicked it in the shoulder, flipping the creature onto its back. Roland followed this up by slamming his boot against the wendigo's throat, causing it to let out a strangled cry of pain.

Aiming his gun at the wendigo's head, Roland prepared to finish it off before he realized that his guns were empty. At that moment, another wendigo took a leaping lunge at him, saliva trailing out of its open jaws. Ducking down, Roland managed to slip his shoulders under the wendigo. As he hunched over, Roland reached to his gun belts and grabbed a pair of specialized clips holding six bullets each. Standing up, Roland caught the wendigo with his shoulders as it leapt over him, causing the creature to flip over and land on its back.

At the same time, Roland tossed the clips into the air before opening the cylinders of his revolvers with a flick of his wrists. As the clips tumbled through the air, Roland held his revolvers upright, causing the spent casings to fall from the chambers and rain down on the wendigo that the gunslinger still held in place with his boot. Once the chambers were clear, Roland reached out and deftly maneuvered his guns so that the falling clips tumbled into the cylinders, the bullets slotting up perfectly with the now empty chambers, before he snapped the cylinders closed with another flick of his wrist. His revolvers now reloaded, Roland aimed them down at the two wendigos laying at his feet and executed them.

This all had occured in a handful of seconds, and in the time, Miguel was still struggling to his feet after being knocked into the dirt by Roland. Pushing himself to his hands and knees, Miguel heard a snarl from behind him, causing the boy to look over his shoulder with wide eyes in time to see a wendigo bearing down on him. Letting out a scream of terror, Miguel rolled over and held his arms up in an attempt to shield himself. The wendigo barked in response and moved to pounce on Miguel, but instead apparently tripped and fell flat on its face in the dirt.

Snarling in anger, the wendigo pushed itself up and looked down at its legs, where it found Oy had latched onto its left ankle with his jaws, his needle sharp teeth digging into the creature's leg. Roaring in fury, the wendigo raised a fist and prepared to slam it down onto Oy, but was stopped as Roland fired a shot at it, taking the top of the creature's head off and causing the wendigo's corpse to slump to the ground.

"Get up, Miguel!" Roland shouted, cutting down another pair of wendigo as he spoke, "Get up!"

Scrambling to his feet, Miguel looked around with wide, fear-filled eyes. The fight in the street had kicked up a large cloud of dirt and sand, obscuring everything more than a few feet in front of Miguel, though he could see the flashes of Roland's revolvers firing from within the swirling chaos. Bodies of wendigo littered the ground, turning the dirt road to mud with their pooling blood. The screams and guttural barks of the wendigo filled the air, but were ultimately drowned out by the thunderous rapport of Roland's guns.

Spinning on his heel, Roland fired at a wendigo that was attempting to run a wide arc around the gunslinger, the bullet catching the creature in the chest and knocking it clean off its feet before sending it crashing through the window behind it, the wendigo disappearing into the building in a shower of broken glass.

At that moment, another wendigo tried to take advantage of what it thought was the distraction it's now dead ally had provided it, and lunged at Roland's back. Before the wendigo could strike him though, Roland spun on his heel and slammed the butt of one of his revolvers against the creature's skull, knocking it to the ground. Without missing a beat, Roland continued his spin, using his other revolver to dispatch the downed wendigo almost offhandedly.

Miguel was shaken out of the daze he had entered while watching the gunslinger work by a wendigo suddenly slamming into him. Miguel let out a cry of alarm as he fell to the ground, but the shout died in his throat as the wendigo did not pounce on him as he had expected. Instead, it continued running down the road towards the desert, hustling towards the desert, making panicked, whining noises as it did.

As Miguel began to pick himself up off the ground, he turned to look at Roland. He found that Roland, in turn, was watching as the wendigo retreated down the street. All around him were the bodies of the wendigo who had once been the townsfolk of Tull. Now, they were little more than carrion laying in the desert sun. An entire town of monsters, dead at the gunslinger's feet.

As Miguel looked at Roland with a mixture of awe and terror, the gunslinger slowly raised one of his revolvers, his blue shooter's eyes focused on the fleeing form of the last wendigo. Turning to look at it as well, Miguel could see that the wendigo had already reached the desert, and was quickly dissolving into a indistinct blob amongst the shimmering air. Roland, however, appeared to be unporturbed by this challenge as he looked down the sights of his gun, took a slow breath, and pulled the trigger.

The thunderous boom of the revolver echoed through the now ghost town once again as the bullet rocketed down the dust road. Though Miguel knew it was impossible, he could have sworn he could see the air ripple in the bullet's wake as it tore after the fleeing wendigo. A moment later, Miguel saw the fading shape of the wendigo jerk forward before collapsing to the ground.

A stillness fell over the town of Tull as Roland lowered his arm, his eyes focused on the still form of the wendigo. Slowly, he turned his blue eyes towards Miguel, who had returned to staring at the gunslinger. Oy, for his part, wandered over and began licking at Miguel's arm, at which point the boy noticed that he had a scrape on his elbow, likely gained when the wendigo had shoved him to the ground.

"Are you hurt?" Roland inquired as he holstered his guns.

"I think I'll be okay," Miguel replied as he stood up and looking at the scrape, hissing as he touched it.

"We should get that washed out," Roland replied as he glanced around, "We can make use of the water pump now, I believe."

"I still can't believe it," Miguel said as he looked around at the slain wendigo.

"Believe what?" Roland inquired.

"You….you killed all of them," Miguel explained, looking at Roland with a mixture of confusion and trepidation, "I didn't think something like that was possible."

"It was a difficult task, aye, but not impossible," Roland replied, "Do they not have gunslingers where you come from?"

"We have men who would say they were," Miguel answered, "But they are nothing like you."

Roland said nothing as he looked at the corpses that surrounded him.

"You said that these creatures used to be the townsfolk," Roland stated, "What changed them?"

"No one really knows," Miguel explained, "Most people think it's a disease of some kind."

"A disease? You mean a sickness?" Roland asked, earning a nod from Miguel, "How does it spread?"

"Biting, definitely," Miguel answered, "Scratches too, I think. I've even heard you can catch it if you get their blood on you."

"I shall strive to be weary if we encounter more of these creatures in the future then," Roland commented, glancing wearily at the congealing blood that stained the street.

"I've never seen one this close before," Miguel said quietly as he looked down at the corpse of a female wendigo that lay on the ground before him, her ragged, torn dress hanging limply from her lithe, animal-like frame, "When you see them like this, just laying there, it's easier to remember that they use to be people."

Leaning down, Miguel reached out to touch the wendigo's body. As he did, Roland caught sight of where the bullet that had felled the wendigo had struck. The view caused the gunslinger's blood run cold.

"Miguel, don't!" Roland yelled, already drawing one of his guns as he spoke. The gunslinger's sudden shout startled Miguel, causing the boy to whip his head around to look at Roland, giving the wendigo exactly the distraction it needed to spring back to life with a roar.

Screaming in terror as the wendigo's sudden move caused him to fall back on his rear end in surprise, Miguel attempted to scramble away, but the creature managed to roll over and throw herself at him before he could. Her left arm hanging uselessly below where the gunslinger's bullet had struck her shoulder, the wendigo fell bodily onto Miguel, her good arm grasping at the boy's clothing as she attempted to find purchase while Miguel squirmed beneath her. As the two wrestled, Roland aimed his revolver at the pair, but found that their scrambling movements prevented him from getting a clear shot at the wendigo.

Finally managing to pin Miguel beneath her, the wendigo barked in triumph as she moved to bite the boy's throat, only to pull back with a howl of pain. As the wendigo arched her spine, Miguel could see that Oy had latched onto the creature's back and was digging his own teeth into the wendigo's injured shoulder. With a cry of fury, the wendigo reached up and grabbed Oy by the fur before yanking him off her shoulder and tossing him away, the billy-bumbler landing in the dirt a few feet away with a grunt of pain.

Turning her attention back towards Miguel, the wendigo snarled before lunging at the boy's throat, teeth bared. Before she could bite into Miguel's flesh, Roland appeared behind the wendigo and wrapped his right arm around the creature's throat. With a grunt of effort, Roland hauled the wendigo away from Miguel, the creature letting out a choked cry as the gunslinger's arm cut off her windpipe.

Wrestling the wendigo off of Miguel, Roland gave the boy the opportunity to scramble away. Then, suddenly, the wendigo snapped her head back, slamming the back of her skull against Roland's face. The blow took Roland off guard and stunned him, allowing the wendigo to wrench the gunslinger's arm away from her throat. Then, still gripping Roland's arm, the wendigo opened her mouth wide and bit down on the gunslinger's right hand, complete severing his index and middle finger with a sickening crunch.

Roland let out a bone-chilling cry of pain as the wendigo tore away from his grip, chewing on his fingers as blood dribbled from her mouth. Roaring in triumph, the wendigo spun around to pounce on the injured gunslinger. Instead, the creature was suddenly stopped as Roland drew a gun with his left hand and shoved the barrel into the wendigo's open mouth. The creature's orange eyes widened slightly before Roland pulled the trigger, causing the back of the wendigo's skull to explode in a shower of brain matter and bone fragments.

As the wendigo's limp body fell to the ground, Roland quickly pulled the gun out of the creature's mouth before slamming the barrel against the stumps of his fingers. The gunslinger's flesh and blood sizzled as they touched the barrel, which was still burning from the heat of firing, while Roland growled through gritted teeth. A moment later, Roland pulled the gun away, revealing his now cauterized wound.

Silence fell over the now abandoned town of Tull once more as Roland looked down at his now diminished right hand, his breathing heavy. Slowly, Roland lifted his gaze to look at Miguel, who was looking back at the gunslinger with wide, frightened eyes.

"Tell me again, Miguel," Roland finally said in a low, quiet voice, "How does one become a wendigo?"

A/N: Pumping out another one of these. Definitely my favorite chapter to write so far, as it gives me a chance to both show off Roland in his prime and some cool monsters from New Century. Hope you guys liked it! As always, feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!


	4. The Face of His Father

**Chapter 4: The Face of His Father**

Evening settled over the vast desert as the trio sat around the campfire that Roland had built. He had made it out of the remains of another campfire that they had come across as they walked, one that Roland believed Walter had left in his wake. Roland had struggled with making the fire and graciously accepted what little help Miguel could give him.

As the flames danced between them, Miguel looked at Roland while absentmindedly stroking Oy's silky fur. The gunslinger's right hand was now largely wrapped in bindings that Roland had scavenged from the clothes of Tull's townfolk and repurposed into bandages. Roland seemed to be doing his best to hide the discomfort that the wound was causing him, but Miguel could see that the loss of his digits was vexing him all the same. Miguel knew that it was not just the pain of the injury that was bothering Roland, nor the fear of the poison that was now running through his veins. Roland was right handed, and it pained Miguel to see the gunslinger struggle to complete what had once been simple tasks with his now diminished hand.

"How….How are you feeling, Roland?" Miguel inquired.

"As well as can be expected," Roland replied, before pausing, "Though, I admit, I know not what to expect."

"I'm….I'm surprised nothing has happened yet," Miguel stated, "I don't think it takes very long for….for the change to set in."

"Well, part of my training to become a gunslinger, I was exposed to small doses of various harmful substances, so that I could build up an immunity," Roland explained.

"Do you think it made you immune to this?" Miguel questioned hopefully.

"Doubtful," Roland replied with a shake of his head, "It makes me immune to weaker toxins, but not to stronger ones. And whatever this….plague is, it sounds strong indeed."

"So, you think you're going to change," Miguel concluded, a trepidatious look on his face.

"If _ka_ wills it," Roland agreed solemnly, "Though I do not believe this is where I walk into the clearing at the end of the path."

Miguel said nothing as a silence fell between the two of them, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

"Still, it would be best if we prepared for all eventualities," Roland commented as he reached into his bag before hissing in pain as he flexed his diminished right hand. Pausing for a moment, Roland reached back in and rummaged around for a moment before he pulled out a cloth bundle. Unfolding the cloth, Roland revealed a collection of green, dried leaves contained within.

"What are those?" Miguel inquired.

"A medicinal herb that was grown back in the time of Gilead," Roland explained, "Chewing it eases and slows the effects of toxin in the body."

With that, Roland took one of the leaves, popped it into his mouth and began chewing it as he folded the rest up and returned them to his bag.

"So, that will keep you from changing?" Miguel asked uncertainly.

"For a time," Roland confirmed.

"Not that I want you to turn into a wendigo or anything, but why are you trying to delay it?" Miguel asked curiously.

"I do not believe that I will become one of these wendigo," Roland answered, "Something tells me that we will find a cure for this plague along our journey. But even if we do not, I need to remain myself for as long as possible to ensure that I get you home, or at least, impart on to you the skills that will get you there yourself."

"Skills?" Miguel repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion as Oy perked up and tilted his head to the side in curiousity.

Reaching to his belt, Roland drew one of the heavy revolvers before adjusting his grip so he held it by the barrel.

"Have you ever seen a gun before, Miguel?" Roland inquired as he held the weapon out towards the boy.

"Y-Yes," Miguel answered hesitantly, clearly confused.

"Have you ever fired one before?" Roland went on, nodding to the revolver insistently.

"No," Miguel admitted as he gingerly took the gun, being careful not to drop it as the weight of the revolver came to fully rest in his hands.

"Then that is where we will start," Roland stated as he stood up, stretching his back as he did.

"You want to teach me how to shoot a gun?" Miguel questioned in surprise.

"The world is a dangerous place," Roland explained as he picked an empty can left over from their dinner off the ground, "And you will find no better weapon to protect yourself with than a gun."

"But don't you need it?" Miguel questioned.

"Yesterday, perhaps I did," Roland replied as he held up his diminished hand, "But today, I find that it is only a spare."

A pang of guilt lanced through Miguel's heart at the statement.

"I'm….I'm sorry about your hand," Miguel said hesitantly, "I should have known that wendigo was only playing dead."

"There is no need to cry my pardon, Miguel," Roland stated with a shake of his head, "It was I who failed to notice that the wendigo was faking death. I am the one trained for such things. The fault lies with me."

Miguel seemed uncertain, but didn't argue the point.

"Feeling guilty will not bring my fingers back," Roland observed as he walked over to a rock that was sticking out of the hardpan a short distance away, "It is best that we focus on the future."

Reaching the rock, Roland placed the empty can on top of it before walking back over to the campfire.

"I take it you want me to shoot that?" Miguel questioned.

"That is the general idea," Roland confirmed with a nod.

Standing up, Miguel looked down at the revolver in his hand wearily as Oy rose to his feet and looked up at the boy.

"It's heavy," Miguel observed.

"Aye," Roland concurred with a nod, "Normally, an apprentice gunslinger would be given smaller weapons at first to get used to the weight of a gun, but I do not have such things with me, so we must make due with what we have."

Looking down at the gun wearily, Miguel grasped it with two hands before he stood up and walked over to where Roland was standing.

"Now what?" Miguel questioned.

"Spread your feet so they are shoulder width apart and face the target," Roland answered as he nodded towards Miguel's legs, "You'll want to have a steady a stance as possible to handle the recoil."

Nodding his head, Miguel adjusted his stance in accordance with Roland's instructions. Once that was done, he turned his attention back towards the gunslinger.

"Now, take aim at the target and shoot," Roland said as he gestured towards the can sitting on the rock, "Make sure to hold the gun firmly when you fire, lest the recoil pull it from your grasp."

"Okay," Miguel replied as he tightened his grip on the gun. Sticking his tongue out in concentration, Miguel raised the gun and pointed it at the can. Then, once he felt he had lined up his shot, Miguel pulled the trigger.

The revolver roared as the bullet leapt from the barrel. While his grip allowed him to maintain his hold on the gun, the recoil of the short caused Miguel's arms to kick upwards, sending him stumbling back as he tried to recover. The bullet meanwhile, pinged off the stone, knocking a chunk out of the rock, but leaving the can were it sat.

As Miguel caught himself, he looked disappointedly at the still standing can, while Oy barked excitedly.

"Don't look so disappointed," Roland commented with a smirk, "I hardly expected you to hit on the first try."

"I guess not," Miguel agreed with a dejected shrug, "But I was kind of hoping I would."

"You struck the stone, which means your aim was true enough," Roland stated as he gestured at the rock, "Your mistake was aiming with your hand."

"It was?" Miguel questioned as he looked down at his hands in confusion, "What should I be aiming with then?"

"Your eye," Roland explained as he drew his own revolver.

Moving to the side, Miguel and Oy allowed Roland to step up to where the boy had been standing, watching as the gunslinger lined himself up with the can.

"I do not aim with my hand," Roland intoned solemnly as he focused his blue shooter's eyes on the can, "He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye."

"I do not shoot with my hand," Roland continued as he lifted his revolver and pointed it at the can, "He who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind."

"I do not kill with my gun," Roland stated as he moved his finger to the revolver's trigger, "He who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart."

With that, Roland fired the gun, the bullet striking true and knocking the can off the rock, sending it flipping through the air. Before the can could fall back to the ground, Roland fired three more shots, each striking the can, each impact knocking it back upwards. After firing his last shot, Roland allowed the can to land on the hardpan a few feet away, the bullets having left it little more than a pile of scrap metal. Turning to the others, Roland found Miguel and Oy staring at him in shock as he spun the revolver on his finger and deposited it back in its holster.

"What was that thing you were saying?" Miguel questioned after he recovered his wits.

"The Gunslinger's Creed," Roland answered, "We use it as a mantra to focus our minds."

"What was all that stuff about remembering the face of your father?" Miguel questioned, a hesitant look on his face.

"Why do you ask?" Roland inquired as he made his way back to the fire, "Do you not remember the face of your father?"

"I do," Miguel replied as he followed Roland back to the fire, Oy trailing behind him, "But sometimes I wonder if I should."

"What makes you say that?" Roland questioned as he sat on his side of the fire, "Surely, this is why you wish to return to your world? So that you can be reunited with your family?"

"I….I don't have much of a family," Miguel answered as he sat, casting his eyes downward as he sat the gun on the ground next to him, "Most of them died when the wendigo first came. It has been just my father and me almost as long as I can remember and my father….he is not an honorable man."

"How so?" Roland questioned, his tone holding no judgement.

"Traveling as we did, we had to do what it took to survive," Miguel explained as Oy wandered over to his side, "And so, ever since I was little, he's had me steal."

"While stealing is not a noble profession, it is better than starving in the streets," Roland mused.

"I know, and for awhile I went along with my father's thieving, even though it meant we could never stay in any one place for long," Miguel elaborated, stroking Oy's fur as the billy-bumbler lay his chin on the boy's lap, "But then, one night, I caught him stealing from the family of a friend of mine, people who had no more than we did. People who were struggling to survive, just like us. After that, I told him that I would never steal again."

"How did your father take that?" Roland inquired.

"He gave me this," Miguel replied as he pulled back the collar of his shirt, revealing a burn mark that Roland quickly deduced came from a cigar, "It is how I remember my oath to never steal again."

"I understand," Roland commented with a nod of his head, "I see now why you might be troubled by the face of your father, but you needn't be."

"Why not?" Miguel asked.

"Because the face of your father is not your father's face," Roland answered.

"Huh?" Miguel questioned in confusion as Oy lifted his head and cocked it to the side in a curious manner.

"What I mean is that it is not just the face of your own father that you must remember, but all your fathers, your entire family line stretching back to creation," Roland explained, "It is about remembering your traditions. It is about remembering who you are."

Miguel went quiet for a few moments, stroking Oy's silky fur as he digested what Roland had said, looking into the fire with a pensive expression.

"Do you remember the face of your father?" Miguel questioned as he looked back at Roland.

"Yes," Roland replied, a small smile tugging at his lips, "I remember it very well."

"What was he like?" Miguel asked.

"His name was Steven Deschain," Roland explained, pausing to spit out some of the leaf he had been chewing before continuing, "Steven the Tall, as he was known to some. He was a gunslinger like me, as back in those days, gunslinger was a title passed down from father to son."

"So you guys were really like knights," Miguel observed with a smile, "Did he go on quests like you?"

"In his younger years, yes," Roland confirmed with a nod, "But I remember him mostly as the _dinh_ of Gilead."

" _Dinh_?" Miguel questioned.

"It essentially means that he was a captain of gunslingers," Roland explained, "Gilead was ruled by the gunslingers, and my father was in charge of all of them."

"Wait, so that means your father was king of Gilead," Miguel surmised with wide eyes, before pointing a finger at Roland, "And that means you were a prince!"

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose," Roland confirmed with a smirk, "It makes little difference now that Gilead is gone."

"What happened to Gilead?" Miguel inquired.

"When I was a boy, a man by the name of John Farson rose to prominence," Roland explained as his gaze drifted to the dancing flames of the campfire, "He was a harrier and a murderer but he had pretensions of being something more. He filled the people's heads with the idea that he could free them from the "tyranny of the gun" as he called it. He told them that he could make it so that they ruled themselves. For that reason, he was also known as the Good Man."

"It sounds like he wanted to set up a democracy," Miguel observed, "Let people choose their own leaders. The RSA is the same way. It sounds like he was your enemy, but I have to admit, that doesn't sound so bad."

"And I would be inclined to agree with you, if it were not for one thing," Roland continued, nodding his head as he continued to gaze into the fire and holding up one finger of his diminished right hand for emphasis, "I don't believe for a single moment that John Farson ever wanted to let the people choose their own leaders. Farson was a harrier and a killer, through and through. He was not interested in giving power to the people, only himself. You need only look at the remains of Gilead to see that all he brought to the people was chaos and ruin."

To this, Miguel could provide no argument, and the two of them fell silent for awhile.

"What happened to him?" Miguel spoke up, "John Farson, I mean."

"He met his end," Roland answered enigmatically, his gaze still focused on the flickering flames, "The end a man like him deserved."

"And your father?" Miguel asked.

"My father fell during the final days of Gilead," Roland explained, "He went into the clearing at the end of the path while defending the city and thus these passed to me."

Roland paused to touch the sandalwood grips of his big revolver while he pulled his blue shooter's eyes away from the fire and turned towards the gun that was sitting on the ground next to Miguel.

"These are important to you, aren't they?" Miguel inquired.

"They have passed down through the generations of my family, from father to son," Roland answered, "All the way from Arthur Eld himself."

"Arthur Eld?" Miguel asked as he quirked an eyebrow at Roland.

"The great king who first founded Gilead," Roland explained, "It is said that all of the gunslinger families are descended from Arthur Eld, and that the guns they inherited were forged from the shards of his sword."

"This gun," Miguel said, indicating towards the revolver sitting next to him, "Was forged from the sword of your King Arthur?"

"Yes," Roland replied before looking at Miguel quizzically, "Does this mean something to you?"

"A little," Miguel admitted, "There's a similar story about a King Arthur where I come from."

"I have heard tales that some things, some stories, echo like that across the cosmos," Roland observed, " _Ka_ , they say, is a wheel, and it turns ever onwards."

"What is _ka_?" Miguel questioned, "I've heard you mention it a couple of times now."

"Other words I have heard for it include fate and destiny," Roland explained, "It is the will of the universe, pushing us towards where we are meant to be."

"So you believe that this _ka_ controls our lives?" Miguel asked.

"I am not as learned as those masters who dedicated their lives to the study of _ka_ , so I must admit that I do not know for sure," Roland answered, "From what I do know, all I can say is that it is more complex than that."

"Alright," Miguel replied, pausing to stifle a yawn with his hand. Immediately afterwards, Oy opened his fanged mouth and yawned as well, before adjusting his position on Miguel's lap, causing Roland to smirk.

"Well, I believe that means it's time for us to rest for the night," Roland observed as he adjusted his position so that he was laying on the hardpan, looking up at the night sky, prompting Miguel to do the same, with Oy curling up next to the boy, "Good night, Miguel."

"Good night, Roland," Miguel replied.

But Miguel did not go to sleep as he lay against the rough desert ground. Instead his eyes were drawn upwards to the swirling expanse of stars that stretched out overhead as he thought about all the things that Roland had told him. As he lay looking at the sky, Miguel glanced to his side and was surprised to see that Roland had apparently already fallen asleep, the gunslinger's hands neatly folded on his chest. As Miguel looked at Roland's diminished right hand, a feeling of dread began to mix with his thoughts. Turning his attention back to the stars, Miguel grabbed the heavy gun laying on the ground next to him and pointed it up at the sky, keeping his fingers away from the trigger as he lifted the revolver with both of his hands.

"I do not kill with my gun," Miguel whispered, repeating the one part of the Creed he could remember at the moment, "He who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart."

Across the fire, an enigmatic smile pulled at the corner of the slumbering gunslinger's lips.

A/N: So it's been a while since I updated this, but it's nice to finally have the next chapter out! Mostly exposition in this chapter, but it was fun to write all the same. As always, feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!


	5. Slow Mutants

**Chapter 5: Slow Mutants**

The sun shone high over the hardpan as Roland, Miguel and Oy trekked across the desert. They had been traveling for days now, the ruins of Tull now far behind them. Before them now though was the looming presence of the mountains, no longer some vague shape on the horizon but an oncoming barrier in their path. As they walked, Miguel adjusted the grip of the holster on his hip in an effort to stop the heavy revolver he carried from banging against his leg.

Glancing up at the sky while chewing thoughtfully, Roland slowed to a stop, prompting Miguel and Oy to stop as well.

"Let's have some water, shall we?" Roland suggested as he spat out the leaf he had been chewing, before he pulled out his canteen and held it out to Miguel.

"How much water do we have left?" Miguel asked wearily as he took the canteen.

"Enough," Roland answered as Miguel took a sip from the canteen, before giving a sip to Oy as well, "We already know from your experience that there is water in the mountains, so it is not our most pressing concern."

Nodding in reply, Miguel handed the canteen back to Roland, who quickly took a sip of his own. As he lowered his head after taking the sip, something caught Roland's attention and he narrowed his eyes as he sealed the canteen.

"Miguel," Roland said, catching Miguel's attention as he pointed up at the mountains looming before them, "Observe."

Looking towards where Roland was pointing, Miguel at first did not see anything, but then he caught sight of something moving up the cliff faces that made up the side of the mountains. At this distance, it was hard for Miguel to make out any details, so all he could tell was that a black something was scrambling up the mountain with frightening ease, like a spider crawling up a wall.

"What is that?" Miguel asked, turning his attention towards Roland as Oy continued to stare up at the mountain, his head cocked to one side.

"Walter O'Dimm," Roland answered solemnly.

"That's him?" Miguel asked in surprise, glancing between the black dot and Roland, "How can you tell?"

"I'd recognize that man anywhere," Roland replied, his gaze still focused on the mountain.

"You can recognize him from here?" Miguel questioned, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Aye," Roland answered with a simple nod, before he lowered his gaze, took out another leaf and started chewing on it while he began walking again, prompting Miguel and Oy to follow him, "We are gaining ground on him."

With that, the trio began their diligent march towards the mountains. Soon enough, the flat hardpan they had been traveling across for days finally gave way to rocky ground that quickly began to rise up towards the mountains now towering above them. Eventually, the incline became so steep that none of them could continue without climbing up the rock walls before them.

"How are you with climbing, Miguel?" Roland questioned as he looked down at the boy.

"Alright, I suppose," Miguel answered with a shrug.

"It will have to be enough," Roland stated as he turned his attention back towards the looming mountain, "I need to catch Walter, and you need to get back home. Both quests lead upwards."

With that, Roland stepped forward and grasped a pair of handholds sticking out of the rock, grunting in discomfort as his injured hand made contact with the hard stone. Then, after a moment to collect himself, the gunslinger began to climb.

Miguel watched quietly for a moment before he looked down at Oy, the billybumbler staring back at him with his gold-rimmed eyes.

"What about you?" Miguel questioned, "Are you any good at climbing?"

"Oy!" the billybumbler replied before it leapt forward. Quickly digging his claws into the rock, Oy scrambled up the mountain face, outpacing Roland with startling ease. Reaching a ledge some twenty feet above, Oy stopped and looked down at Roland and Miguel, barking impatiently.

"Well, I suppose that figures," Miguel commented with a sigh before he began to climb as well.

The next part felt like a hellish eternity to Miguel, possibly even worse than traveling across the desert had been. The sun was beating down on them just as much as it had been before, but now the exertion of climbing the rocks was causing Miguel to sweat, making his hands slick against the stones.

Reaching up for another handhold, Miguel's sweaty hand slipped on the rocks, and the boy completely lost his grip, sending him falling into the open air with a cry of fear. Seeing this, Roland turned towards the boy and snapped his arm out with inhuman speed, snagging Miguel with his diminished hand before the boy fell out of reach.

"Are you alright, Miguel?" Roland questioned as he held the boy aloft, holding onto the mountainside with one hand.

"Yes, I think I'm-" Miguel began to say as he looked up at Roland.

The words died in Miguel's throat as his gaze met Rolands, and the boy saw orange specs in the gunslinger's blue shooter's eyes.

"Miguel?" Roland said as he looked at the boy in confusion.

"It's nothing," Miguel assured Roland as he looked away from the gunslinger's eyes, "Can you pull me up?"

Nodding in reply, Roland pulled Miguel up to him and set the boy back on the cliff, making sure he was steady before they began climbing up together.

What felt like hours later, Roland called for a stop as the pair reached a large ledge, prompting Miguel to roll onto his back and stare up at the bright blue sky while taking gulps of air while the gunslinger sat next to him, pulling out the bundle that had held the leaves he had been chewing before tossing it away when he found it empty. Miguel's arms felt like they would pop out of their sockets if he was forced to continue, and he dimly wondered how much further they had to go. As this thought came to him, Miguel looked up at the part of the mountain that still loomed above them, and in doing so, noticed something.

"Roland," Miguel said to get the gunslinger's attention, "Can you see Walter anywhere?"

At Miguel's question, Roland turned his gaze upwards as well. Scanning the mountain top, Roland narrowed his eyes as he rose to his feet.

"I do not," Roland confirmed as he lowered his head and began looking around, "I wonder where-"

"Oy!" Oy called from the other side of the relatively large ledge, which wound around a bend and out of sight, "Olan! Gel!"

Roland and Miguel shared an uncertain glance for a moment before the boy pulled himself back to his feet and they both walked over to see what Oy wanted to show them. Reaching the bend, Roland and Miguel looked around it, and, to their surprise, found the yawning mouth of a cave before them, the inside of which was shrouded in shadows cast by the noonday sun.

"Do you think he went in there?" Miguel asked as he looked up at Roland.

"I think it most likely," Roland confirmed with a nod as he swept the surrounding area with his gaze, "I see no other signs of him."

"Why would he go in there?" Miguel questioned, feeling a sense of foreboding come over him as he stared into the blackened depths of the cave.

"I suppose we must find out," Roland answered as he began walking towards the mouth of the cave.

As Roland walked into the cave, Miguel turned his gaze wearily towards Oy. Oy met Miguel's gaze with fear in his gold-rimmed eyes and whined.

"Yeah, me too buddy," Miguel sighed as he began reluctantly following Roland, "Me too."

Entering the cave, Miguel was quickly blinded by the complete darkness that existed just beyond the mouth of the cave. Stumbling around as his eyes adjusted, Miguel ended up wandering directly into Roland, bouncing off the gunslinger's back with a grunt.

"Steady yourself, Miguel," Roland growled as he reached out and steadied the boy, "We have a treacherous path before us."

"How are we supposed to follow Walter when we can't even see where we're going?" Miguel questioned.

"Gel!" Oy called out in the dark before Miguel felt the billy-bumbler's squiggly tail being purposefully rubbed against his hand, "Oy, gel!"

"What is it, Oy?" Miguel questioned in confusion, "Why are you rubbing your tail against my hand like that?"

"I believe he wants to lead us," Roland observed.

"What do you mean?" Miguel asked.

"Billy-bumblers are able to see quite well in the dark," Roland explained, "Here take my hand and grab Oy's tail."

Miguel did as he was told, and as soon as he grabbed Oy's tail, the billy-bumbled began walking forward, prompting Miguel to follow as he led Roland behind him. For a few minutes, Miguel and Roland blindly followed Oy through the dark cave, the only sound they made being those of their breaths and their footsteps.

After awhile, Oy came to a stop and began sniffing at the ground.

"What is it, Oy?" Miguel questioned in confusion.

"Oy!" the billy-bumbler barked in reply, "Oy!"

Shuffling forward, Roland felt around with his foot for a moment before he felt something solid that made a thunk noise as he kicked it.

"It's a rail," Roland observed as he continued feeling around, "A pair of them."

"Tracks?" Miguel asked, clearly baffled as he began feeling around as well, "What are tracks doing-"

Miguel cut himself off as his shin collided with something hard and solid, causing him to yelp in pain.

"Are you okay, Miguel?" Roland asked with concern as he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I think so," Miguel hissed as he bent down and rubbed his shin, "I hit my leg against something though."

Feeling around, Roland discovered some kind of small vehicle was sitting on the tracks directly in front of them.

"It's a handcar," Roland reported as he finished feeling the vehicle's general shape, a metal square sitting on four wheel, with a seesaw-like pump at its center.

"What's a handcar doing here!?" Miguel asked as he stood up, sounding twice as incredulous as before.

"Clearly this cave was not as natural as it seems," Roland observed, "It must have been carved into the mountain, and this must have been used to transport those who wished to travel through the tunnel. It must have been abandoned after the fall of the Old Ones."

"The Old Ones?" Miguel questioned in confusion, "Who are they?"

"The stories go that long ago, before Arthur Eld had founded Gilead That Was, the Old Ones ruled Mid-World," Roland explained, his deep voice reverberating off the walls of the tunnel as he spoke, "It is said that the Old Ones built works of technology that surpassed the works of even the greatest wizard."

"What happened to them?" Miguel inquired.

"They destroyed themselves," Roland elaborated grimly, "Two factions of the Old Ones came into conflict, which escalated into a war that killed them all and devastated much of our world. Now all that's left of them are their machines and the creatures twisted by the plague they brought down upon us."

"What kind of….creatures?" Miguel questioned hesitantly, already dreading the answer.

"While their ancestors were once men, these creatures have been twisted both in mind and body that they only bare a passing resemblance to what they once were," Roland answered, "Some can be reasoned with, but others no better than rabid animals, and must be put down as such. They no doubt have been called different things by different peoples, but I always knew them as slow mutants."

"Do you….do you think we'll run into any of these slow mutants in our travels?" Miguel asked fearfully.

"I cannot say," Roland answered, "Though I hope we do not."

A silence fell between the two before Roland felt for the handcar again and stepped onto it.

"Come, we shouldn't linger in this place," Roland said as he urged Miguel onto the handcar as well, Oy hopping up next to the boy, "Do you know how to operate a handcar?"

"I've never had to," Miguel replied, "But I think I get the idea. We just have to push up and down on the lever right?"

"Aye," Roland confirmed, "Now, grab hold and get ready."

Grabbing hold of the lever, Roland pushed down on it with a grunt, the lever groaning almost painfully as the rust of untold ages flaked off the handcar.

"Good!" an encouraging, mechanical voice suddenly exclaimed from the handcar, causing both Roland and Miguel to start in surprise, "Push again!"

Roland immediately stopped pushing on the lever, the force he had put behind it causing the handcar to roll forward about a foot before coming to a stop again.

"W-What was that?" Miguel inquired frightfully.

"I believe the handcar spoke to us," Roland explained, his voice even as his spooked heart quickly returned to a regular rhythm, "The creations of the Old Ones can be queer like that. Come, let's start again."

Nodding in reply, Miguel pushed down on his side of the lever, causing the handcar to groan to life again.

"Good!" the mechanical voice said as the handcar began rolling forward once more, "Push again!"

In response, Roland pushed down on his end of the lever, causing the handcar to pick up speed. Soon enough, Roland and Miguel fell into a steady rhythm, their continual pumping of the lever sending the handcar speeding down the tracks to the machine's continual chants of "Good, push again! Good, push again! Good, push again!"

"Oy!" the billy-bumbler called from his spot next to Miguel, the speed-stirred air ruffling through his silky fur as he craned his neck over the front of the handcar, where a pair of lights suddenly sprung to life, illuminating the tunnel ahead of them as the handcar rolled down the tracks.

"Electric lights!" Miguel exclaimed excitedly.

"Good, now we can see what lays before us," Roland commented before a look of annoyance came over his features as he looked down at the still chattering handcar, "Now, if we could only find a way to silence this noisy contraption."

Turning his attention towards the handcar, Miguel looked the central arm over before finding a switch of some kind. Hopefull, Miguel flicked it into its other position.

"So long, pal!" the mechanical voice called before falling silent.

"Finally," Roland said with a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Miguel."

Miguel nodded in reply, and together, the two continued pumping the handcar deeper into the mountain.

 _Later_ ,

Hours must have passed since the trio began their journey on the handcar, but even after all that time, the tracks showed no end in sight. After awhile, the handcar had built up enough momentum that only an occasional push from Roland was necessary to keep it moving. As such, Miguel now sat on his end of the handcar with Oy, watching as the tracks and tunnel sped through the small cone of illumination before them.

Suddenly, Miguel spotted something that caused his heart to seize for a moment in fear.

"Roland!" Miguel called out, "You have to stop the handcar!"

"I don't believe there is a way to stop it!" Roland replied as he let go of his end of the lever, "What's wrong!?"

"There-There's something on the tracks!" Miguel answered as he rose back to his feet, his eyes focused on the pile of rocks that was covering the rails ahead of them.

Luckily for them, the part of the tracks they were currently traveling on was on an uphill incline, leading to the handcar rolling to a stop just before the pile of rocks.

"Miguel, grab one of those rocks!" Roland ordered as he hopped off the handcar and held it place as the machine began rolling back down the tracks, "Quickly!"

Hopping off the front of the handcar, Miguel quickly grabbed one of the large, loose rocks off the pile, causing a few others to tumble to the ground. Hurrying over to Roland, Miguel quickly wedged the rock behind one the handcar's wheels, causing it to stay in place without the gunslinger needing to hold it.

"What do you think happened?" Miguel asked as he looked back at the pile of rocks, noticing that the light from the handcar was quickly dying, "A cave-in?"

"No," Roland replied grimly, his voice sounding almost like a growl.

Turning back towards Roland, Miguel was just able to catch sight of the gunslinger's blue shooter's looking back at him before the light from the handcar died completely, noting that more orange flecks had appeared in them.

"This is a trap," Roland said simply, his voice echoing through the pitch black cave.

Miguel was about to ask who could have set the trap when the sound of something moving in the darkness stilled his tongue. The noise had sounded nearby, though not close enough that he believed it could have been made by Roland or Oy. Looking in the direction the sound had come from, Miguel saw something that made his blood run cold.

Emerging from the darkness that otherwise consumed the tunnel, was a glowing figure. They were humanoid in shape, and glowed a soft, but sickly shade of green in the darkness. They looked like a mockery of a person, standing naked with a potbelly, short, bowed legs and a stooped posture that let their unusually long arms dangle near the ground, the claws on their large hands scraping against the stone. Their visage was even more horrible with a sloping, bald head, protruding ears, an upturned nose and a mouth so full of crooked, pointed teeth that their lips couldn't fully contain them, causing drool to dribble down their chin. Seeming to take notice of Miguel's stare, the creature turned is black, doll-like eyes towards the boy and let out a horrible, caterwauling scream that reverberated off the cave walls, sounding like an army of the monsters was coming for the trio.

And then, more of the creatures were charging out of the darkness towards them, and Miguel knew exactly what they were facing.

"Slow mutants," the boy whispered in horror.

"Get the tracks clear, Miguel," Roland growled as he drew his revolver.

"What?" Miguel questioned in shock as he managed to drag his gaze away from the slow mutants, looking at the dark shape of Roland that was barely illuminated by the glow of the charging monsters.

"Get the tracks clear!" Roland shouted angrily before he pointed his revolver at the oncoming horde and pulled the trigger, the deafening sound of gunfire accompanying one of the slow mutants jerking backwards, glow-in-the-dark blood spraying out of the new hole in its throat and splattering the cave wall surrounding it.

Shocked back to reality by Roland's heated words and the furious report of his gun, Miguel quickly turned away and stumbled through the dark towards the front of the handcar, Oy barking in agitation as he followed.

Undaunted by the death of one of their own, the slow mutants continued charging forward, allowing Roland to easily gun down two more of their number before they reached him. As one of the slow mutants lunged at him, Roland ducked under its attack, causing it to stumble past him. Straightening up, Roland shoved his revolver into the face of another slow mutant and blew its brains out, before spinning around and kicking the first mutant, sending it stumbling away.

Spinning back towards the rest of the slow mutants, Roland dodged out of the way as one of the creatures raked its claws at his face. Grabbing the slow mutant's head with his diminished hand, Roland slammed it against the head of the creature behind it. With both of them stunned, Roland put the barrel of his gun against the first mutant's forehead and pulled the trigger, the bullet shooting through the mutant's skull and striking the second in between the eyes, killing both with a single shot.

As the bodies of the two mutants crumbled to the ground, Roland spun towards the rest of the pack before shooting one of them in the knee. As the slow mutant fell onto its remaining knee, screaming in pain, Roland pointed his revolver at the creature's head and pulled the trigger, receiving only an empty click in return. Snarling in frustration, Roland smashed the butt of his revolver against the side of the slow mutant's head, quickly silencing the creature. Before it could fall to the ground, Roland reached down, grabbed the slow mutant's limp body and lifted it off the ground before hurling it at the rest of the pack, causing them to stumble back.

At that moment, the slow mutant that Roland had dodged around earlier charged at his back, wrapping his arms around the gunslinger and burying its teeth into his shoulder. Crying out in pain, Roland snapped his head back and smashed the back of his skull against the slow mutant's face. As the slow mutant reeled, glowing blood now pouring from its shattered nose, Roland forced himself out of the creature's grip and grabbed it before throwing the slow mutant against the tunnel wall. As the slow mutant slumped against the wall, Roland ran up and grabbed the creature by the throat with his diminished hand before using the other to beat the slow mutant's head in with butt of his revolver, the gunslinger screaming at the top of his lungs as glow-in-the-dark blood splattered his face.

Over by the handcar, Miguel was quickly moving the rocks off of the tracks, a panicked expression on his face. Suddenly, as he turned around with the last rock in his hands, Miguel found a slow mutant looming over him, it's black eyes focused on him. Snarling, the slow mutant lunged at Miguel, causing the boy to let out a cry of fear before he instinctively threw the rock into the monster's face, striking it between the eyes. As the slow mutant reeled in pain, Miguel scrambled away, forgetting everything except his desire to get away from the creature.

Recovering from the blow, the slow mutant began rushing after Miguel while roaring in rage. Before it could reach Miguel though, Oy came leaping in from the side, his claws and teeth barred as he flew at the slow mutant's face. As Oy slammed into the slow mutant's head, he dug his claws into the creature's cheeks while biting it hard on the brow, eliciting a scream of pain from the creature as it thrashed around.

As the slow mutant struggled with Oy, Miguel's hand went to the sandalwood grip of the revolver Roland had given him and drew it. Miguel looked at the big revolver wearily in the dim light for a moment before his attention was pulled away as he heard Oy let out a yelp of pain. Looking up, Miguel watched as the slow mutant tore Oy off of its face and tossed the billy-bumbler away before turning its now scratched and bleeding face towards Miguel. Scrambling to his feet, Miguel pointed his revolver at the slow mutant with shaking hands, prompting the creature to snarl in challenge and charge at the boy.

"I-I do not aim with my….my hand," Miguel mumbled, watching the slow mutant come with wide eyes, "He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye."

"I do….do not shoot with my hand," Miguel continued as his hands trembled terribly, "He who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind."

"I-I-I do not shoot with my gun," Miguel went on as the slow mutant drew closer and closer, drool dripping out of its open mouth, "He who shoots with gun has forgotten the face of his father. I-I….I…."

As panic set in, Miguel pulled the trigger, but his badly shaking hands caused the shot to go wide, striking the slow mutant in the shoulder, while the revolver itself flew from the boy's grip and clattered to the ground nearby. The bullet dug into the slow mutant's flesh, sending glow-in-the-dark blood splattering against the wall behind it while its arm hung loosely at its side. Nevertheless, the slow mutant refused to go down and continued stumbling towards Miguel, it's good arm outstretched and its terrible maw open wide.

Letting out a scream of fear, Miguel covered his face with his arms in a vain attempt to fend off the oncoming monster. However, the creature never reached Miguel as another thunderous bang echoed through the tunnel and something wet splattered against the boy's arms. Slowly uncovering his face, Miguel saw the slow mutant laying face down on the ground a short distance away from the boy, a large hole in the back of its head. Raising his gaze, Miguel saw Roland standing further down the tunnel, his revolver pointed towards where the slow mutant had been a moment before.

"The handcar," Roland all but growled.

"W-What?" Miguel asked in confusion.

"Get on the handcar!" Roland snapped before he spun around and fired three more shots from his revolver back down the tunnel, striking down a trio of slow mutants while forcing the rest of the horde back, "Now!"

Shocked into action, Miguel grabbed his revolver off the ground before he scrambled up onto the handcar, finding Oy already waiting for him. Standing up and grabbing his end of the handcar's lever, Miguel watched as Roland hopped onto the other end of the handcar as a slow mutant scrambled forward and grabbed the end of the gunslinger's coat. Snarling in rage, Roland spun around and kicked the slow mutant away before executing it with two shots to the chest.

"Push!" Roland roared as he began working the lever of the handcar, prompting Miguel to as well. Slowly but surely the handcar once again began rumbling down the tracks, pulling away from the remaining horde of slow mutants who continued chasing after them. Soon enough, the slow mutants were lost from view, their glow fading away as the handcar's lights kicked back on.

"We did it!" Miguel exclaimed as he looked at Rolan, "We got-"

Miguel cut himself off as he looked at Roland, watching as the gunslinger aggressively pushed harder and harder on his end of the lever, apparently heedless to the fact that the danger had now passed.

"Roland?" Miguel asked, worry in his voice, "Roland, are you alright?"

Roland said nothing in reply, staring straight ahead as he continued pumping on the lever.

"Roland, you can slow down now," Miguel said, fear creeping into his features, "We got away. You don't have to-"

"Gel!" Oy called, interrupting Miguel, "Oy, Gel!"

Looking down at Oy, Miguel saw that the billy-bumbler's gaze was focused on something in front of them. Looking in the same direction, Miguel saw a light at the end of the tunnel that they were rapidly approaching.

"Warning!" the handcar's electronic voice suddenly declared, "Track ends in five hundred meters. Please reduce speed."

"Roland!" Miguel cried as he looked back at the gunslinger, who was still pumping the handcar's lever wildly, "Roland, you have to stop!"

Roland continued to pay Miguel no heed, staring straight ahead with a wild gleam in his eye.

"Warning!" the handcar cried, "Track ends in two hundred and fifty meters. Please reduce speed."

"Olan!" Oy shouted, "Olan! Gel! Gel!"

"Warning!" the handcar continued, "End of track imminent. Brace for impact."

"Roland!" Miguel cried as he moved to the gunslinger's side and began trying to wrench the man's arms from the lever, "We're going to-"

Roaring in fury, Roland let go of the lever and wrapped his hand around Miguel's throat, glaring down at the boy. The thing that shocked Miguel the most though was the fact that the gunslinger's blue shooter's eyes had completely turned an angry shade of orange.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a bright flash, a terrible crash and the world seemed to fall out from underneath Miguel. For a single, terrible moment, Miguel tumbled through the open air, his stomach doing backflips inside his guts. Then, Miguel slammed onto something solid and hard before he rolled to a stop on his stomach.

For a moment, Miguel did nothing but lay on the ground, barely holding onto consciousness. However, before the darkness could completely take him, Miguel sensed something small walk up next to him and begin nudging his head.

"Gel!" Oy called as he batted at Miguel's head with one of his paws, "Gel! Gel!"

"I'm okay, Oy," Miguel groaned as he brushed the billy-bumbler away, "I'm okay."

Groaning in pain, Miguel pushed himself onto his hands and knees and looked around. Miguel saw that he was in some kind of cavernous room with an arched roof and noticed that most of the room was constructed out of concrete and was dimly illuminated by strange glowing orbs built into the walls and ceiling. About a dozen train tracks were lined in orderly rows across the room, some of them with large trains the likes of which Miguel had never seen still sitting forgotten on the tracks. A few hallways seemed to lead out of the room, and here and there Miguel could see the crumbled form of what the boy assumed were long dead bodies.

Hearing a snarl from behind him, Miguel quickly spun around and saw Roland's crumbled form beginning to shift. As Miguel watched, his eyes wide with terror, Roland pushed himself up off the floor, but instead of rising to his feet, he remained on all fours, his back and legs cracking and bending unnaturally as he did. Growling and snarling, Roland shifted his weight experimentally before turning around to look at Miguel, and to his horror, the boy saw that the gunslinger's eyes had turned completely orange, and his mouth was frozen in a rictus grin that showed off all of his teeth.

Quickly scrambling back to his feet, Miguel began to slowly back away from Roland while Oy interposed himself between the two, growling and baring his teeth at the gunslinger.

"Roland, it's me, Miguel," the boy said as he held his hands up in front of him, "You know me, you don't want to-"

Roland interrupted Miguel by letting out a deep throated roar before leaping at the boy, hands outstretched and teeth bared.

A/N: So, this ended up being a really long chapter, but I had a lot of fun writing it and I'm happy with how it turned out. As always, feedback and critiques are always welcome, so please review! Later!


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